Are You Okay, Dean?
by The Cruel Mastermind
Summary: "One of these days... I won't be around to save you. And I know when that day comes, you'll be the one saving me. Right?" Dean starts going off the deep end, and he's left everyone trying to pick up the pieces, but is Sam the only one that can do it for him? WARNINGS: Rated M for Mature, future Yaoi, blood, swearing, the usual with Supernatural.
1. Alone on the Road

**TCM: **Ah, so this is my first Fanfiction to ever be posted, so uh… go easy on me?

**Balthazar:** Don't, it'll only inflate the kid's ego.

**Castiel: **What are you doing here, Balthazar? You are not even in this Chapter.

**Balthazar: **Neither are you. So I could ask you the same question.

**Castiel: **_points at Sam and Dean getting ready for the chapter. _My boys are here.

_**Epic stare off starts between the two.**_

**TCM: **Uh... Guys… Chapter's starting...

**Balthazar: **_doesn't break his stare. _Right, Luam does not own Supernatural or any of its original ideas.

**Castiel: **_also remains starring with an intimidating glare. _But I own Dean and Sam.

**Balthazar: **Oh for fuck's sake Castiel.

**Castiel: **_furrows his brow. _I do not understand what intercourse has to do with this discussion.

**TCM: **_sighs and looks at the readers. _Just, skip to the chapter, this is gonna take them a while…

_**Arguing continues between the two.**_

Chapter 1: Alone on the Road

His voice makes me want to punch somebody, Sam's I mean. I swear if _one more person _asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwing punches! That's all I ever hear anymore: "Are you okay, Dean?" Dad dies, "Are you okay?" I die and go to hell, "Are you okay?" Sam dies, "Are you okay?" Bobby dies, "Are you okay?" and now I've got that damned **Mark of Cain** and no! No I am not okay! But would I ever admit it to Sammy, to Cas?

No…

I can't, something just keeps nagging at my mind, whispering for me to ignore their pleas and concerns. And Sammy? Hah, Sammy still doesn't know when to quit. What's worse, he acts all smug about it, "I know Dean, I can see it. You never sleep, and when you do it's always interrupted by nightmares, you're taking _way _too much anger out on monsters (Not that they _don't_ deserve it), you're drinking more than usual, and sometimes starring off into space. I'm your brother Dean, you can trust me. Tell me are you okay?"

No. I'm not.

But like I said, I'd never tell him that. The thing is, Sam has this knack for always prying things out of me, one way or another, well not this time. I'm not gonna have any more damn chick-flick moments with my own damned brother.

I sat there, starring at the **mark **on my arm. There's this weird feeling I get when I look at it, think about it. This yearning… I need to kill something, _anything_. But looking out the window of our current hotel room, I just see humans. Only humans walking around… Wait, humans? Since when did I start labeling them like I wasn't one of them?

_**Since ya went to Hell,**_ a raspy voice inside me crooned, _**and don't try to argue, 'cause you know its true Deano. **_It's not surprisingly Alastair's voice.

For some reason I find myself thinking of my old Master when I think of Hell. It's probably the same reason I think of Bobby when I see baseball caps and hillbillies, or the Impala… Always reminding me of my deadbeat dad. I snorted softly at about the time Sammy came shuffling out of the bathroom, hair still wet as he dried it with a towel and dusty blue jeans pulled up to ride low on his waist. He raised a brow, obviously having heard the noise,

"What is it Dean?" he asked me curiously. I flinched lightly at how loud his voice seemed and rushed to push my sleeve back down to cover the **mark** on my arm,

"Hmm? Oh, nothin' Sammy, just waiting for you to get your ass out of the bathroom after five fucking hours." Shifting to insults with Sam was tricky. If you said the right thing, he'd just get annoyed and storm off. But if you didn't, he'd start getting suspicious. And as that signature frown curled on his face, I knew that, unfortunately, he was the later at the moment. I wanted to scowl. As usual, when I refuse to tell him something, he starts throwing a hissy-fit interrogation.

"Dean, are you-" Sam started, but I cut him off with a growl,

"_Don't _ask me if I'm okay! I'm fine!" As soon as I said it a soft, burning, thrum jolted its way up my arm and I snapped my jaws shut to hold back any noise that could alert Sam. In less than a second I was back to the laptop and books scattered out in front of me on the desk that came with the room, trying to concentrate on getting the red to fade from my vision and the adrenaline pumping through my blood to calm down. The clock sounded like it was ticking too loud, the sound of the refrigerator was annoying as all hell, even the little sounds of the people busy outside was driving me nuts; I hadn't even noticed my foot starting to tap loudly, my teeth starting to grind, or that my hand was grasping at my arm where the **mark **was hiding under my sleeve.

"d…an...dean…_Dean!_" I blinked. It was like one of those cool slow-motion pauses in the movies where all the ringing in the ears after a bomb went off stops suddenly. I felt a hard grip on my shoulder and another on the arm that had been attached to my other arm, and I turned my slightly bewildered gaze to look at Sam's face. Worry, fear, a little anger… typical puppy dog eyes. It made me sick.

Something clicked. I shot up, knocking the chair back and pushing Sam away so roughly he slammed into the wall nearest to us. I zoomed past him, grabbing my keys and my wallet on the way to the door while Sammy started recovering from the blow I dealt him, "Ugh.. Dean wait! Wai-"

The loud smack of a door being thrown against it's hinges in the small hotel rang clear through the halls and I rushed to my baby, stumbling here and there; un-intentionally glaring at passers-by. When I reached the Impala I ripped the door open, jammed in the keys, and slammed it shut, screeching off on the mostly empty road with Metallica blasting on the radio. I took a last glance up through the rear-view mirror to see Sam run out of the hotel and make an attempt to catch up with me.

"Sorry Sammy." I whispered and steeled my expression, focusing on the road ahead of me and started hoping that the next few hours wouldn't be as much of a hell as I knew they could be.

**To be continued.**

_**Meanwhile, with the Author, Balti, and Cas- **_

**Balthazar: **How many more times do I have to explain this to you?!

**Crowley: **Raising your voice is not gonna help Balti, dear, trust me… I've tried.

**Castiel: **I don't advise putting faith in him.

**Crowley: **Oh, like you're one to talk mister stab people in the back?!

**Balthazar: **He has got a point there, Castiel.

_**Moment of silence…**_

**Castiel: **Point not valid.

**Crowley: **... You stubborn bloody wanker of an Angel! One of these days I'm gonna cut those wings off an shove them up your-

**TCM: **I just… -_- Review if you want to everyone… Thanks.


	2. Twister

**TCM: **So here's the next chapter of **ROYD**! Apologies for taking such a long time, I have school to attend to a lot of the times, so I really just write random things in my free time.

So there isn't any particular reason for this chapter, and I know it's way too early to be putting in fillers, but that's basically what it is people. Apologies, also, for if Dean is a little OOC in this chapter, he's probably gonna be OOC a lot, so get used to it lovies, but I really was just super bored in my seventh period class at school, absolute free time, so this is the result. Anyway! Sam?

**Sam: **Cru does not own Supernatural or any of its characters, nor any original plot themes.

**Dean: **Thank god for something..

**TCM: **-

**Sam: **Watch it Dean… Cru writes the stories, remember. o.o

**TCM: **Yup, so let's get on with it then!

Chapter 2: Twist

Music blasted throughout the club I had found myself at. Two months. That's how long it's been, I counted. So far I haven't killed anybody, not even monsters if I could help it; riding low, under the radar.

The voices are always echoing in my head now, some of them sounding familiar, like people I know, while others just sound dark, mysterious, like meeting someone for the first time in a pitch black room and you can't see their face. Constantly goading me on, begging me to kill…

I've been through Hell and back, I've watched so many people die, killed so many things, hurt others, but honestly, ignoring the voices hammering in my head is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Vengeance, rage, lust, jealousy, sorrow, darkness, fear… All the things I'm sure Cain had been feeling when he had the mark, when he killed his brother, were now coursing through my body, my soul, my mind. It was sickening, in a sense, painful in another, terrifying all the way around, and all I could keep slapping myself with was the same sentence over and over, that by now, I'm sure, has lost its meaning, _**I'm okay, It's all okay; under control.**_

Well it wasn't, and I knew that.

Why in the fucking hell did I choose one of the noisiest and sociable places on the planet to be at right now? Sitting at the fucking bar, trying to drown myself in alcohol like I had been doing for the last two months. Maybe it was for the distractions? The booming music, the loud people, the stomping of feet on the dance floor, bar glasses clinking on tables and even together, all of that seemed to actually drown out the voices, fade them away in the back of my head. Which was definitely enough for me, even just a little time alone without my thoughts was bliss.

How ironic.

I actually wanted to get up and dance too, maybe blow off some steam in laugh about doing some ridiculous move like the _Twister _or the _Dougie_, but I also knew I'd probably pass out the moment I set foot in the middle of all those people. The bartender was keeping a careful eye on me, whether he was trying to make sure I didn't drink too much (already had like thirty shots so) or he was a monster, or he was just being damn creepy, he was watching.

I was about to order another drink when screaming rang up from the other end of the club. Everyone looked, some people murmuring, and overall everything just stopped. The music was lowered to the point of practically off, people were getting on their phones, texting, taking pictures, calling what appeared to be the police, (if the short amount of digits entered into their phone was anything to go by) and already starting rumors.

I couldn't help it, I was just as curious as the next person, but probably ten times more wary, seeing as I had seen things that would be getting way more than publicity at this point, so I got up off the bar stool (more like fell off) and stumbled to my feet, making my way over to all the damn commotion, "Wha' happened?" I frowned, mostly because of the slur in my words.

A guy next to me decided to humor me, "Some guy tried to bite this one girl. When she escaped, with practically a chunk of her shoulder ripped off, he started drawing weird symbols everywhere in her blood, then she died!" My frown worsened.

I managed to push through the rest of the stunned crowd and felt my eyes widen at the scene before me. Pentagrams, lots and lots of devil worship symbols, summoning ritual circles, and in the middle of it all was the guy, still drawing in blood. I was about to run for it, knowing full and well that some hunter would likely find out about this, and that it would likely be Sammy, but I was stopped dead in my tracks when the guy, muttering under his breath in some language (I think it was Latin?) slowly twisted his head to look at me. And I mean twisted, 180 fucking degrees twisted! What was this guy, a fucking owl?!

More screams of alarm, people starting to run, everyone taking videos, I just stared. Twisty tie had these eyes, ya know? The kind that just freezes you in place, mesmerized with amazement and fear; like two black holes, that were still sucking up the galaxies around them, swirling around and around and around and…

What was I saying just now?

Mr. Twisty smiled, the creepiness fucking smile I believe I have ever seen. A savage, stomach turning, toothy, face splitting grin that had rows upon rows of sharp little teeth. What probably should have scared me, was that the little teeth started moving, like someone had revved up the dicing machine at a beef factory, teeth clattering against each other at a horrifyingly fast pace, but that wasn't it. You'd think it would be, but no, what scared the shit outta me the most, was that I was smiling right back at him.

My lips had curled into this (probably insane looking) Cheshire grin and all I was aware of was the mark howling on my arm, the blade already out of the waistline of my pants and in my hand. The twisty thing made a sort of purring (I guess?) sound, and it bent its back backwards, towards me. The cracking of its spine as it bent in half the wrong direction usually would've made me flinch, but now, with the mark, I wasn't even all that aware of the grotesque shape.

It left the patch of symbols it had been creating and started crawling towards me using its hands and feet, like something out of the fucking Grudge. If it was possible, I felt the grin on my face stretch more, a hysterical chuckle escaping my throat.

"Guess I get to do the Twister after all…"

**TCM: **… Like I said, result of boredom.

**Dean:** I blame the procrastination, you never do your work do ya kid?

**TCM:** - Why are you my favorite character again?

**Sam:** Because he's hot?

**Dean: **_smirks _You know that's right.

**TCM: **Aww, look everyone, Sam's already getting into the spirit of the story!

**Sam: **_**blushes**_

**TCM: **Reviews make Sammy blush, guys!


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